


That Voice

by bigblueboxat221b



Series: Speaking in Tongues [17]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Relationship Advice, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, Sherlock's Voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Greg accidentally gives Sherlock a little advice, which turns into a lot of advice. Sherlock puts it to good use. Immediately.





	

**Author's Note:**

> At some point there had to be an homage to That Voice, which makes me shiver a little even thinking of it! This is as close to smut as it's gonna get, lovelies, just a few suggestive lines there near the end. 
> 
> Thanks again to all those following and throwing me kudos and comments - I love them (I mean YOU) all! <3

“Come on, Lestrade, you’re going to get the credit anyway, so why does it matter?” Sherlock asked, impatient with the detective’s griping about his blunt assessment of the facts. As Greg went to answer, Sherlock’s phone rang in John’s distinctive tone.

Ignoring Greg’s bluster, Sherlock turned to answer it, speaking in a low baritone for a few moments before turning back to Greg. “Are we done here?” he asked.

Greg sighed, resigned to his fate. “Yeah,” he relented, then added absently, “Go home and put that voice to better use.”

Sherlock frowned. “What do you mean?”

Greg stopped taking notes and stared at him. Realising at last that Sherlock had no idea what Greg was alluding to, he elaborated, “Go home. Talk to John in that deep voice you were just using.” At the continued blank expression, Greg said in irritation, “You’ll get a shag out of it if you talk dirty to him in that voice Sherlock, trust me!”

At this open acknowledgement of their personal relationship, Sherlock looked away uncomfortably, though he was still silent.

Greg grimaced. Shit. “Look, it’s not common knowledge. I doubt anyone’s noticed.”

“John told you.” Sherlock’s voice was dispassionate.

Greg nodded. “I brought it up at the pub last week, I’d noticed you were different with each other. Didn’t mean to shout about it, sorry.” He glanced around. “Everyone’s gone anyway.”

Sherlock nodded jerkily, his eyes betraying the speed with which his mind was still working. Greg waited a moment, before turning to walk back to the waiting Donovan.

“Wait…please.” Sherlock managed with difficulty.

The surprise of hearing such a courtesy was enough to keep Greg from walking away. Since when did Sherlock say please? He swung, eyebrow raised, hoping it was something quick. Paperwork would be a bitch on this one.

“What, exactly, did you mean earlier?” Sherlock asked, his face flushing a little in the cool evening air. The light was fading fast, but the pink was clear against his pale skin.

Greg frowned. “When?”

Sherlock’s sigh spoke volumes of his patience in dealing with such a low intellect. “You suggested I utilise my voice as a form of foreplay. Can you give me specific examples from which I may extrapolate?”

Greg blinked, then groaned. Sherlock wanted sex advice. His night just got better and better. From experience, he knew that it was easier just to do what Sherlock asked the first time. He rubbed one hand over his head, through his hair, then spoke in as matter of fact a tone as he could manage.

“Right, I’ll only say this once, so pay attention. That deep quiet voice of yours makes John quake in his boots, no mistake. Get right up next to his ear, tell him what you were thinking about – about _him_ – while you were away. Where and how you’re going to touch him, all the details and don’t rush it, or do. It’s either about the tease or the immediate pay off.”

Greg rushed through his ‘tips for dirty talk’ as fast as possible, hoping Sherlock would not have any questions. Wishful thinking.

“I assume all of this is before the act of intercourse?” Greg almost choked on his indrawn breath. It was worse than giving The Sex Talk to his kid. She’d never used words like ‘intercourse’, she’d been embarrassed and used euphemisms and said ‘you, know, the thing’ like she was meant to.

“Well it’s up to you. I don’t know what usually…no I don’t want to know any details at all, but you could talk while…stuff happens.” Greg cringed into the darkness, grateful it had fallen as they talked.

“What exactly am I supposed to talk about?” Sherlock asked.

Greg could hear the genuine anxiety in his tone. If not for that he’d be toast, Greg thought to himself. As it was, he answered, “Whatever’s happening, or you want to happen. Not a crime scene, or an experiment, or anything even remotely unsexy. You want to be turning him on, not off.”

Greg waited a moment, and when no response was forthcoming, he turned to walk away. “Right. Well, I hope it goes…to plan. But no details, alright? Enough things to give me bad dreams as it is.”

Sherlock’s chuckle came out of the thickening darkness. “Of course.”

Too much to ask for a thank you, Greg thought grumpily.

+++

Sherlock took a deep breath, uncharacteristically stalling for time at the bottom of the stairs inside Baker Street. He would treat this like an experiment, he had decided, changing parameters and gathering data. He was familiar enough with the signs of John’s arousal now that he should be able to spot any spikes immediately; provided he changed only the use of his voice, there should be clear indicators of its effect or not.

Making his way up the stairs, Sherlock strode into the sitting room, discarding his coat and scarf before pinning a smouldering look on John, exactly the same as he had the previous week.

Just as before, John had looked up from his book, done a double take at the intent in those eyes, and grinned. This time, though, when John stepped over to Sherlock, the taller man dipped his head down, mouth almost touching the gentle curve of his ear. He breathed once, deciding what to say, and noted the shudder pass through John as the warm air caressed his ear. Interesting.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Sherlock said, settling for something less explicit to begin.

The hitch in John’s breath, and the jump in the pulse beating in his neck, were both promising signs.

Sherlock deliberately pitched his voice low and gravelly as he continued, “About where I would kiss you first when I came home. Which expanse of skin I would run my lips over first…”

To his delight John shuddered again, his hands grabbing at Sherlock’s waist. Who knew, Sherlock thought absently as he catalogued John’s responses, Lestrade might actually know what he’s talking about.

His voice, smooth and sensual as silk sheets on cool skin, whispered in John’s ear. “Perhaps this part,” he kissed John’s earlobe, sucking it into his mouth, “or here,” running his open mouth along John’s rough jawline.

At that point, John turned his head to kiss Sherlock, and it all became a little fuzzy from there on. 

Sherlock had impressions, moments where he tried to follow Lestrade’s advice. Voice low, deep, and dark enough to fall into and willingly drown…words about sensation and experience…

…“I’ve been wondering all day what sound you’d make when I…” Sherlock’s mouth closed over one nipple, holding tight as John crowded in to him...

…“I love your hands in my hair…” John’s fingers tugged on the dark curls, spikes of sensation thrilling through Sherlock…

…“Slowly, let’s see how long before you’re writhing under me…” One button at a time, exposing delicious skin to the symphony of John’s moans…

…“More?” Waiting for John’s breathless pleas before lowering his mouth again to John’s body…

…“You’re so beautiful like this, ohhhhhh…” John’s spine arched back, eyes closed at the sensation of Sherlock inside him…

…“Please, John, look at me…” falling, falling forever into those fathomless eyes…

And then, no speech, just deep groans, forming the shape of John’s name into the air…For long moments, they lay together, the only sounds heaving breaths and slick hands blindly reaching to intertwine.

Overall, Sherlock thought dazedly, that Greg knows what’s talking about. I’ll never forget his name again. Opening his eyes, he found John staring at him in confusion.

“What did you say about Greg?” John asked, and Sherlock realised he’d been talking rather than thinking. Oops.

+++

The next crime scene they attended, Sherlock swung to leave, before John gave him a pointed elbow in the ribs. Sherlock scowled, then stalked over, spoke to Greg briefly and left, a smirking John by his side.

Greg was still standing in shock when Sally asked what he had said. “He said, ‘Thanks, Greg.’”


End file.
